


Tomorrow

by missbeizy



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-09 22:32:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3266810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbeizy/pseuds/missbeizy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>6x05 elevator reaction fic.  Relationship talk and a little phone sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tomorrow

It takes four days for Kurt to work up the courage to text Blaine. When he does, he's half asleep in bed and he doesn't let himself think about it before he hits send.

_So, truth time: that gas? I was not entirely immune._

He goes to sleep to avoid the response, but it's there when he wakes up.

**Oh my god, Kurt.**

After his morning coffee, just before he gets into the choir room, he sends another.

_Come on. Be honest. Not even a little?_

**In the middle of practice. Can we talk later?**

He has no idea what that means, precisely. 

Has he made Blaine uncomfortable? Was it too much? He'd had this itchy urge to begin a dialogue with something semi-comedic, in the hopes that Blaine might respond casually. 

All he can feel now, days later, is the skittering, magnetic reminder of Blaine's hands on his back, arms, and shoulders in Sue's office, when they'd re-delivered their current party line: better off as great friends. He knows it isn't true, but they've been wielding it like a shield, and it's become comfortable and easy to hold.

“Later” is ten o'clock that night, Kurt just finishing his skincare routine when his phone buzzes across the vanity's top.

**I don't think I was. But it's not as if I need any help in that area when it comes to you. You know that.**

_At least agree with me that the wine was good. Also I seriously need to refresh my list of tapenade recipes. I'm being outdone by Breadstix and that will not do._

**You're doing the topic change thing.**

_Sorry. Trying to find an appropriate place._

**We can talk about it, you know. We're adults. We can do this.**

_It didn't mean anything. We agreed._

**We did agree.**

_But?_

**We can also agree to change our minds?**

_Question mark._

**I'm just trying to not make you uncomfortable.**

_Same. You have a boyfriend._

**So do you, apparently.**

_He's not my boyfriend. We've only been on two dates. I'm just trying to have some fun and step outside of my comfort zone. Put myself out there._

**I'm kind of living outside of my comfort zone right now. I haven't been there since...it's been a long time.**

_How so?_

**Kurt, I can still feel your skin against my fingertips. Your mouth opening up under mine. My body hasn't stopped tingling since. That's how so. I can't pretend that it didn't mean anything, at least not if we're going to have these kinds of conversations.**

_It's late. I'm sorry. Can we drop it?_

And then Kurt's phone rings, lights up with an old picture of Blaine because he'd deleted quite a few of the more recent ones since the break-up. His body flashes cold and then hot. He briefly considers not answering, but his fingers are swiping the screen before he can decide either way.

“Hey,” he says.

“I'm going to break up with Dave,” Blaine replies.

“Oh. Okay. I'm—sorry.”

“It isn't just about us. I can't—I can't do it anymore, with him, feeling this unhappy and unsettled, especially not with he and I sharing a place, and I just—it's not working.”

Kurt chews his lip. He does not have charitable feelings about Blaine and Karofsky's relationship, but he doesn't particularly want to see either of them suffer, either. _At least, not all the time_ , he thinks, with a slightly mean roll of his eyes.

“How—when do you—I mean, soon?”

He tries not to sound as if he's begging, because he isn't—but he is invested. He can't not be.

“He—” Blaine's voice wavers. “He didn't even ask me where I was. I mean, we generally keep a pretty distant track of each other, but. I just remember that one time that I didn't come back from Elliott's and you were so worried, and you were waiting for me, and—it's never been perfect, you and me, god, it's been such a struggle at times for us both, but Kurt—moments with you have meant more to me than a lifetime with someone else ever could. And I think when I kissed you in the elevator I realized that.”

Shaking, Kurt realizes that he's clutching his phone so tightly that the edge is cutting into his hand painfully. He releases his death-grip and breathes out, away from the receiver.

“But I'm also not ready,” Blaine continues. “I'm angry. I don't trust your feelings because I don't think you know exactly how you feel. I don't want to be together right now. I don't think I can.” He breathes out loudly into the phone. Kurt can hear the rustle of sheets and blankets, maybe even a pillow as Blaine readjusts. “But I can't stop thinking about you. Being close to you for all those hours...”

Kurt wants to give something. He wants to unburden even a small part of himself in a desperate way that he's never felt before. In the past, this urge has felt like a sacrifice—tonight, it's temptation, red hot wires laced in place of his veins, a tapestry that knots its central pattern over his heart.

His heart belongs to him, but it is nonetheless with Blaine.

“You annoy me as often as you make me adore you,” he says, in a whisper.

“The feeling is mutual.”

“You never used to agree so quickly to those kinds of statements.”

“I'm not the person I was six months ago. A year ago.”

“That's true,” Kurt says. “You're different. It reminds me of—well, sort of the way you were when I first met you. But different. Polished. Bold, but really rooted in who you are. Truthful.” He smiles, a secret little thing. “Kind of hot, actually.”

Blaine laughs, breathless and squeaky. “Uh-huh.” There's a pause, and then, “I'm trying really hard to be true to myself.”

“It shows,” Kurt says, still smiling.

They don't talk for a long moment. The tension is as thick as London fog, and Kurt's body quivers at the quality of the silence. It makes every hair on the back of his arms and neck stand up.

When Blaine speaks again his voice is husky and playful. “If those doors hadn't opened I would have kissed you again,” he says. “I would have put my other hand on your face and kissed you until you couldn't breathe.”

Kurt's heart slams against his chest. He closes his eyes, leans back in his chair, and feels the soft flaps of his loosely done up robe splay wide over his naked legs. He has never felt so exposed, and has never loved the feeling so much.

“What else?” he asks, barely breathing.

“I would have slid my hands down your beautiful neck just to feel your pulse pounding. I would have touched you, softly but intently, put my fingertips on your collarbone just above the neckline of your tank top.” His breath comes faster, spurring Kurt's into much the same. “I would have waited for you to push your tongue against mine, past my lips, waited to feel your interest.”

He feels lightheaded and transported, and he doesn't consider the words before he replies, “I was so gone, so fast. My—you know how I know I'm done for when the first reaction I have to a kiss is my nipples getting hard, and they were—they were so _hard_ , Blaine.”

“Oh my god,” Blaine breathes, shifting around noisily. “Oh, god. I know. I remember.”

He can't help shifting his fingers beneath his robe to rub at his chest. “I wanted to dig my fingers into your hair. I wanted you closer.” He uses his right hand to tease both of his nipples to full pebbles, one and then the other and back again. He sputters, “Is this okay? Is this...?”

“Are you touching yourself?” Hushed, a little frantic, scratchy.

“Are you?”

“I want to be,” Blaine answers.

“I want to do what you want to think about right now,” Kurt says, shuffling on unsteady legs over to his bed, where he sits and inches back toward the pillows.

“I just want to be close,” Blaine says. “I want to listen to you breathe and know what you're doing.”

Kurt unwraps his robe, pushes one hand between the waistband of his briefs and his flat belly and grips himself. “I'm just—touching myself. A little.” He stops, and thinks, and offers, “Thinking about you here. Kissing me without—pretending, without anyone involved but us. Touching me the way you always do, like I'm special, like I'm—worth handling with care.” He closes his eyes when they begin to burn and focuses on his hand moving up and down his cock. Blaine's breath and voice so near feels like a benediction.

“I miss the way you smell when you get turned on,” Blaine says, and Kurt can hear the change in his breathing that indicates he's touching himself, too. “A little tangy but almost sweet, like crushed rose petals.” He whimpers, just once. “I miss kissing you where you least expect it. Tickling you in the middle of sex to make you laugh. How you become more demanding the closer you get to coming. God, I just _miss_ you.”

Kurt's chest heaves. He feels like crying. He feels like coming. It's all so sharp and sudden, but instead of hurting it just feels like release.

“I miss you too,” he whimpers, rocking up into his own hand. “Be with me for—right now, just stay with me, I'm so close.”

“I'm here,” Blaine says, sounding urgent and so very sure. “I'm here, I'm with you, I'm—” He makes a soft, broken noise into the phone and Kurt tugs faster, tears springing bright and fresh to his eyes. The winding up of pleasure is almost too much. He can't remember the last time it had been so joyful and overwhelming at the same time.

“I'm,” he pants, spreading his legs, “I'm coming-g, oh, god.” He comes in pulses, to the rhythm of Blaine's frantic breathing in his ear, comes and comes and comes until he has nothing left to give, and hears Blaine join him somewhere about halfway through.

He waits until he can sort of breathe again before saying, “Oh my god, we—we shouldn't have done that, I'm sorry. You're still technically, you know. With someone.”

Blaine's voice, post-orgasm purr, is enough to make Kurt twitch, despite the excellent orgasm of just moments ago. “Technically being the key word. In a few days—I'm sorry if this made you uncomfortable. But I just need you to know how much of an issue it isn't.”

“Okay,” Kurt says, because he needs to trust, he needs to be able to believe. “Okay.”

“We still have a lot to talk about,” Blaine says, sounding sleepy.

“We have all the time in the world.”

Blaine pauses, and Kurt can hear him smile. “The rest of our lives?”

“I'll settle for your tomorrow. For now. And then the next. And the next. Until this is good for you. And for me.”

“Then I'll talk to you tomorrow, Kurt Hummel.”

Kurt smiles.


End file.
